The army in my veins

One of the reflections that has influenced me most is the concept of a family tree. Here I am, occupying about two feet of earth as a young adult making the most of what he’s been given. Gifted.

On the surface, I’m the product of two amazing humans: a warm, arms-wide-open father who led with respect, and a cautious, confidence-building mother who spoke only love and light.

Sometimes I do something and say, “that’s my mum.” Or someone compliments my leadership and I smile, thinking of my dad. Then there are influences from mentors and books. But I often forget the biggest part: centuries of hidden gifts passed down in DNA.

Do the math: 2 parents, 4 grandparents, 8 greats. Ten steps up, and you and I are shaped by at least 1,024 people.

There’s nothing I face that someone in my lineage hasn’t already overcome.

Cornered? My forefather in 1675 likely had ten arrows aimed at him. He survived. Dream crushed? A great-grandmother in 1215 might have fallen from a mountain in a storm and risen days later. Creative block? An ancestor probably had 24 hours to write Kábíyèsí’s anthem or be hanged. He found it at the last minute.

I don’t worship them (I worship the Creator who made them). But I remember them. And they remind me of the power I carry in my veins.

So, what’s my excuse? Or yours?